Reborn As Mr. Coldwell's Wife
Chapter 87: Nothing To Say

Chapter 87: Nothing To Say

Ellen stood in the kitchen, her hands busy chopping vegetables as the aroma of sizzling bacon filled the air. But her mind was far from the breakfast she was preparing. Her thoughts were consumed by the events of last night, and more specifically, by Mason.

As she diced the last of the bell peppers, she couldn’t help but glance toward the kitchen door every few seconds, half-expecting Mason to appear at any moment. Her heart fluttered with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. What would he say to her? She was pretty lucky before, managing to slip out of his room while he was still trying to sleep. But she knew that luck wouldn’t last forever.

Ellen bit her lower lip, trying to push away the uneasy feeling in her chest. Maybe he was just too tired last night to deal with her. After all, he had just come back from a long flight, probably exhausted and not in the mood for any confrontation. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t kicked her out of his room immediately. He was just too tired, too drained to bother with it.

But what if that wasn’t the case? What if he was mad and just hadn’t shown it yet? Ellen’s hands paused in their work, the knife hovering above the cutting board as she imagined the worst-case scenario.

"No," she whispered to herself, shaking her head as if to clear away the troubling thoughts. "I’m his wife. I have every right to be in his room."

The words were meant to be reassuring, but they didn’t quite have the effect she hoped for. She still felt a knot of worry in her stomach. Ellen knew Mason valued his privacy, and she had crossed a line by sneaking into his room and falling asleep in his bed. But it wasn’t like she had meant any harm. She hadn’t done anything wrong, really. She had just wanted to... feel close to him, in a way she hadn’t been able to before.

Ellen sighed, placing the knife down on the counter. She needed to calm down. Mason hadn’t even said anything yet, and here she was, already imagining all sorts of scenarios in her head. It wasn’t helping.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. The scrambled eggs were nearly done, and the bacon was perfectly crispy. She moved quickly, putting everything onto plates and setting them on the kitchen island. Maybe if she kept herself busy, she wouldn’t have time to worry about Mason and what he might say. She could pretend, just for a little while longer, that everything was normal.

But no matter how much she tried to distract herself, the worry crept back in. Ellen wiped her hands on a dish towel, her eyes flicking once again toward the door. What was taking him so long? The anticipation was killing her. Part of her just wanted to get it over with, to face whatever Mason had to say and be done with it.

As if on cue, she heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. Her heart skipped a beat, and she quickly turned back to the stove, pretending to be engrossed in her cooking. Maybe if she looked busy, he wouldn’t bring it up. Maybe they could just have a normal breakfast, and everything would be fine.

The footsteps grew louder, and Ellen’s breath caught in her throat as Mason appeared in the doorway. He was dressed casually, his hair still slightly tousled from sleep. There was a hint of stubble on his jaw, giving him a rugged, just-woken-up look that made her stomach do a little flip.

"Good morning," Ellen greeted him, forcing a smile onto her face despite the nervous fluttering in her stomach. She tried to keep her tone light, hoping to mask the tension she felt.

"Morning," Mason replied, his voice deep and slightly rough, still carrying the weight of sleep. He moved toward the kitchen island, where the breakfast Ellen had prepared was laid out. Without a word, he pulled out a stool and sat down, his eyes briefly scanning the spread before picking up his fork.

Ellen hesitated for a moment before joining him, sliding onto the stool next to his. The silence between them was thick, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. Mason didn’t seem angry, but the fact that he hadn’t mentioned anything about last night was making her anxious. She kept stealing glances at him, waiting for the inevitable conversation she dreaded, but Mason remained focused on his food, taking his time with each bite.

After a few minutes of silence, Mason finally broke it. "Why so quiet?" he asked, glancing at her with a curious look. "Usually, you can’t stop talking."

Ellen blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Really?" she asked, trying to keep her tone casual. "Is that the image you have of me?"

Mason shrugged his shoulders, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Something like that."

She managed a small laugh, though her mind was still racing with thoughts of what he might say next. Would he bring up last night?

But Mason didn’t say anything more, instead continuing to eat his breakfast in peace. His calm demeanor only made Ellen more anxious. Was he really just going to let it go? She couldn’t believe it. Mason wasn’t one to ignore things that bothered him. He was direct, to the point, and he wasn’t one to back down from serious talks.

The rest of the meal passed in silence, with Ellen struggling to maintain her composure. She pushed her food around on her plate, barely touching it, too preoccupied with her thoughts to actually eat. Mason, on the other hand, seemed completely unbothered, finishing his breakfast without a hint of concern.

When they were done, Mason stood up and took his plate to the sink. Ellen quickly followed suit, eager to keep herself busy to dodge the awkward silence that could go on forever. She began washing the dishes, her hands moving automatically as her mind continued to race. She kept expecting Mason to say something, anything, but he remained silent.